I have often hoped that I am not judged by my words, mannerisms, or behaviors. Because these things very rarely match what I am actually meaning to say or what I actually feel.

I am grateful for the moments I am able to properly convey what is really happening in my mind. It seems to be quite a difficult task for me. And I find myself endlessly imagining how I could’ve better managed a past conversation.

Removed the 4-inch pillow topper from the bed and laid it on the living room floor. Black out curtains, drawn. String lights on for a tiny, tiny bit of light (basically a nightlight). A/C on full blast, providing tons of white noise. Dumb Netflix comedy playing. Pup to the left of me, Marc to the right of me.

The world outside is unseeable, unhearable, unfeelable. And there is nowhere else I’d rather be.